Whichever option he chose, a source of serious money wassitting in a cave almost within spitting distance, and he wasn’t giving up until he had it in hand.
As for anyone else who got in his way?
Like his long-lost relative, Marie, they too would come to a bad and mysterious end.
TWENTY
“OH MY. THIS IS BECOMING QUITE ... JUICY.”
As Natalie paused in her translating on Tuesday morning, Cara looked up from her keyboard. “More about MSL?”
“Yes.”
“He’s taking up an increasing amount of space in her journal, isn’t he?”
“Indeed he is. Let’s see ... this entry is how long past the first mention of him?”
Cara scrolled back until she found the original reference. “Three months.”
“I think they’ve progressed beyond the conversation phase.” Natalie adjusted her glasses and began translating again.
MSL is back! It feels as if he’s been gone for years instead of weeks. Oh, how I live for the hours we can be together, limited though they are.
We met in the usual spot tonight. He brought wine and I brought a picnic. From our perch up there, the moon was full and bright, the night so warm and clear. Somehow we forgot about the food.
I know what happened next was wrong. All of our meetings have been wrong, of course, but this was very wrong. Still, I love him with all my heart, and I want him to know that. This seemed the best way to demonstrate the depth of my feelings.
The stolen hours we shared have only made me want more, and God forgive me, I hope he feels the same. That someday he’ll realize we were meant to be together. I know it’s wicked of me to wish for that, and unfair to the others involved, but I can’t help hoping my dreams will come true.
Cara stopped typing as Natalie finished. “I think your take is spot-on. They’ve moved past talking.”
“And this entry does line up with the story Paul told me. But we may never know for sure if she doesn’t reveal his name or offer any clues about his identity.”
“She might, later on.” Cara tapped a finger against the keyboard. “I wonder if her reference to a ‘perch up there’ could mean the clifftop here on the property?’”
“I’d say that’s a distinct possibility, since she also fell from there. Especially if this man was involved in that incident.”
“You know ... we could always skip ahead and read the final entries. They may answer our questions.”
Natalie waved that suggestion aside. “I can wait. I like watching the story unfold in order. Besides, patience is a virtue.”
“Not one of mine, sad to say.”
“Nor the sheriff’s. He called me yesterday to ask again if I’d be willing to put security cameras along the path to the lake. I’m as anxious as he is to catch whoever is trespassing in light of their possible connection to Micah’s death, but unless we put in a dozen cameras, it seems like an exercise in futility. We’re not even certain if the lights you’ve been seeing were on the path or in the woods.”
It was hard to argue with that.
But if Brad was pushing for cameras, the suggestion had merit. He wasn’t the type to waste time or money on efforts that hadn’t much chance of producing results.
“I wonder if it would be worth putting in one or two as a test? See if any motion-detection alerts come through.”
“That’s a given, thanks to all the animals on the property. The deer alone would keep anyone monitoring the cameras busy. I did talk to Steven about this, and he’s skeptical they would produce much beyond wildlife too. But I haven’t taken the idea off the table. If you continue to see lights, I may revisit the decision. Shall we get back to the journal?”
And that was the end of that discussion for today.
Natalie continued translating for another forty minutes, ending their session promptly at eleven o’clock.
“Brad’s housekeeper is coming by at noon today to talk with me about taking over for Lydia. Cross your fingers it works out.” Natalie closed Marie’s journal.
